I changed into the brownish green uniform of the Principality of Zeon and noticed that my uniform was vastly different from Vultee's. The insignia on the uniform's chest denoted one's rank. This indicated a profound lack of practicality in production and military utility. The uniforms were just announcing to any watching sharpshooters which officers to shoot first to create maximum confusion in the ranks. If I survived long enough to make it to the ground war, I would have to find some way to not wear my jacket when on the front line.
Other Zaku pilots began floating into the staging room while I wrapped my head with toilet paper. They were all adult men, but I knew those demographics wouldn't hold for the rest of the war. Once we really started taking casualties during the Battle of Loum and the initial invasion of Earth, it was only a matter of time before women and children started making their way to the front lines.
"Did you hear why it was called Operation British?" one of the changing soldiers asked, clearly setting up a joke.
"Why?" another pilot asked.
"Because the British empire collapsed due to decolonization! Get it? Like the space colony!"
A few pilots in the changing room laughed at the joke, me included. In fact, I had to stop myself from laughing uproariously at the cruel irony of it all. The codename of an operation that resulted in the genocide of ten million people aboard a colony ship and the complete decimation of the Earth was a pun. The cruelty was so villainous and the disregard for human life was so gratuitous that all I could do was laugh.
Oh my God, I'm working for super-villains!
At that moment, the staging room's intercom turned on, and a voice on the other side said, "Lieutenant Sebastian Dogwood, please come to the Starboard Pilot Briefing Room as soon as possible."
That must have been my scheduled chewing out. Obviously, Commander Roth must have been in the mood to shout at me in person. All I had to do was figure out where the briefing room was.
"Heinrich," I said to Officer Vultee, "can you lead the way? My vision's a bit blurry right now."
"You really should go to the med bay first," Vultee said, concerned.
"The bleeding has stopped. I can survive a conversation with my commanding officer," I said, though a small part of my brain was afraid for my survival chances.
The high command of the Principality of Zeon was famously hot-headed. They would have to be to sign off on such a "bold" strategy as Operation British. Perhaps Commander Roth would have me executed for sharing my opinion that the colony drop would fail. Hopefully, I could at least delay my execution until orbital mechanics proved me right.
Officer Vultee and I floated through the ship aided by sliding handles built into the walls and strange elevators where you had to support your body weight with your hands for the second half of the ride. The ship was abuzz with activity, and the sound of joyous celebration filled the halls.
When we entered an elevator, I sighed and said, "The blame for Ensign Hotchkiss's death sits on my shoulders. I should have considered the curvature of the colony and predicted that a train cannon could hit us."
Through clenched teeth, Vultee said, "The only people to blame for his death are the Fed bastards that killed him. They've kept us under the boot of the Earth Sphere for so long, but we'll show them! Sieg Zeon!"
Vultee snapped off a passionate salute, lifting his fist into the air.
"Sure," I muttered, giving a half-assed salute in response, "sieg Zeon."
Oy vey, Officer Vultee would have to be dissuaded from that line of thinking if he was going to survive the war. More importantly, his overt nationalism would result in my death. If he charged into battle shouting at the top of his lungs, I would end up getting gunned down a few seconds after him.
Our elevator reached its location, and the Pilot Briefing Room was within sight. We floated into the briefing room, and Commander Leopold Roth was there to greet us.
The briefing room closely resembled a college lecture hall with more than a dozen leather seats facing a central podium. There were a few differences, however, in that all of the chairs included crash harnesses and the podium was nailed to the ground.
Commander Roth was standing behind the metal podium, though no one else stood in the room. Upon seeing us enter, Roth said, "If it isn't my favorite oracle. The ability to see the future must be quite convenient."
I tried to stand up as straight as possible, but that was quite difficult in zero gravity. The best way for a soldier to keep his head down when ranking officers were around was to play stupid, so I said, "No, sir! I can't see the future, sir!"
Glaring at me, Commander Roth said, "Then why are you so sure Zeon's plan will fail, Dogwood?"
Quietly, Vultee said, "What did you do, Lieutenant?"
My face a mask of stoicism, I said, "The walls of Island Iffish aren't nearly thick enough to survive re-entry. I believe that the colony will split into multiple pieces and miss its destination in Jaburo."
"Jaburo!?" Roth said, sputtering. "How did you know the target?"
Silently, I chastised myself for that oversight. No one would have told a simple naval Lieutenant the target of Operation British. Thinking fast, I said, "Sorry, sir! I just assumed Jaburo would be the target. That's what I would do."
"Fine," Roth muttered. "Continue."
"Anyway, I believe that the colony will rupture in the middle, and the split will cause the debris to scatter around the southern hemisphere," I said.
"No, that's impossible," Commander Roth said, but I could sense doubt in his eyes.
"Yes, sir," I said. "I understand that no military in history would reverse a full-scale campaign on the suggestion of one field officer, but I had to try regardless."
Maybe people would listen to me next time. There were multiple places where I could divert the war in Zeon's favor, so I didn't need my advice to work this time. If I could kill General Revil in his cell or murder Ray Amuro before he got into the Gundam, that would change everything.